“If you speak, Ethan, you are no longer my son,” Margaret said softly.

Ethan swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, his fingers shaking so much they clattered against each other.

“They have a cabin,” Ethan whispered.

“No, Ethan!” Margaret yelled, stepping forward.

But Samuel moved instantly, placing his large frame directly in her path.

“Let him speak, Mrs. Lawson,” Samuel said.

“Ethan, go on,” I urged, leaning in.

“Where is the cabin?”

“It’s in Evergreen,” Ethan said, his voice barely audible over the rain.

“Near the state park.”

“My grandfather bought it thirty years ago.”

“It’s not listed under the family trust.”

“It’s under a holding company called Blue Spruce LLC.”

Margaret let out a sharp, ragged breath and turned her back to us, staring out the rain-streaked window.

“Thank you, Ethan,” I said, my heart soaring with a sudden, desperate hope.

Samuel was already typing on his phone, calling the local sheriff’s department.

“I need to dispatch deputies to an address in Evergreen,” Samuel said into the receiver.

“We have an active custody dispute and a child at risk.”